


En Dentibus Lupum

by littlecakes



Series: Lupum Est [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 20:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17332250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/pseuds/littlecakes
Summary: Ravus needs to be reminded of his place within Ignis' world. Set two years after Auribus Teneo Lupum.





	En Dentibus Lupum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stopmopingstarthoping](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOPE I LOVE YOU AND STUFF you're great alright that's it go read the porn

The steel of the pole is cool in the clutch of Ignis’ knees. There’s a rhythm and meditation in his practice as he swings around it. The pulse of the bass echoing through his ears deafens the whoops and hollers of the crowd around him; their hungry eyes linger on the planes of his naked body. The tiny, iridescent shorts and mesh shirt hide the marks Ravus left on him the night before. As much as he’d like to show them off, most customers don’t like to see them on someone who’s about to service them.

 

While their attentions normally enthrall him, that’s not why he’s picked up this shift at the club tonight. Ignis’ emerald visage falls on the man working the bar at the end of the stage. Ravus’ stark white hair is pulled into a loose bun and the hair at the nape of his neck has been shaved into a steep undercut. The t-shirt he wears, which is practically painted on his body, is a deep scarlet, and a large, silver cross dangles between his pectorals.

 

Ravus doesn’t normally wear  _ that  _ to his shift at the sex club they both work at. The normal routine is for the former priest to tuck it away in a wooden, velvet-lined box inside his nightstand at their apartment. It’s only extracted from its safe space on Sundays and Christmas, or when Ravus is feeling particularly sinful.

 

Then again, it really takes a lot for Ravus to immerse himself that deeply in the darkness that shrouds his heart as of late. Ignis wonders if perhaps the ex-priest is ruminating on his life choices. He went from living within the rectory of his church to moving into Ignis’ apartment in a few short months. 

 

That was over two years ago now. Three, if he wanted to round up to the anniversary of that fateful night Ravus had come apart while strung up in his apartment, bearing the weight of his riding crop across his body. The priest had always appealed to Ignis, leading him to hope that he would see that beautiful, soured face in his club again. God had mercy, even for the wicked, Ignis learned; Ravus had arrived the very same night Ignis had given up.

 

Ravus’ rapture into the world of sin that night was momentous. He had never been so beautiful. Ignis had never had a more heartbreaking man in his bed before, yet there was something about his surrender and unabashed want for retribution, for validation, that made Ignis want to fall to his knees.

 

Were it up to Ignis, Ravus would be the only man he ever bedded again, but…

 

_ Well.  _ Money’s money. Having a little fun while making it never hurt anyone.

 

Ignis swings around the pole once more before leaning his back against it and sliding down until he’s crouching on the balls of his feet. Languorously, Ignis drops to his knees and crawls the twenty feet to the bar, prowling on his hands and knees like a leopard. He can feel the eyes on him, devouring every bare inch of his flesh as he makes his way to Ravus.

 

The man looks up to him, flushes slightly, and returns his attention to the glass he’s cleaning. The managers specifically talked to them with instructions about their relationship. If they weren’t going to put on a show for the customers, then they were to pretend as if the other didn’t exist. They were perfectly fine with it; Ignis more than Ravus, who took some coercion or working up before his shift to even think about touching Ignis in front of anyone else.

 

“Good evening, Ravus,” Ignis purrs, kneeling on the illuminated bar top, which is flecked with little droplets of water. He swings his hips from side to side and gets a particularly loud cheer, followed by a crumpled-up bill being hurled at his backside. Ignis collects it, winks, and smooths it before tucking it into his shorts.

 

Ravus looks up at him, sneers, and then returns to the task at hand.

 

“What’s wrong, don’t want to play tonight? The crowd’s rowdy, we would make some good money.”

 

The snow-haired man makes a little  _ tch  _ sound with his tongue before sidling into an opening into the bartop. Ignis smiles a pleased smile at his lover before sitting on the bar, legs dangling over the side, so Ravus can slot between them. The dancer wraps his arm over his shoulders and digs his heels into the small of his back to draw his lover closer before kissing the sensitive spot just below his earlobe.

 

“You’re wearing it tonight, darling,” Ignis whispers, just above the pulse of the bass.

 

“Don’t ask,” Ravus hisses, sinking his fingernails into the stretchy material of Ignis’ shorts, so Ignis doesn’t. No, he knows how to speak volumes to his lover without saying a word. It's a talent that's well-practiced and well-used.

 

As Ravus lavishes him with begrudging affection, Ignis lets his head drop back to his shoulders as he releases a wanton moan. Whatever is the driving force behind Ravus’ reasoning for wearing his cross to work, it isn't a good one. Ignis wants to know  _ why _ , why God is here encroaching on his territory.

 

Ravus is his. He stole him away from the sanctimony and the hypocrisy to help him be the man, not the slave, he was always meant to be. Ignis’ blood is boiling and not because Ravus’ fist is wrapped around his hard length while their patrons around them enjoy the lewd display.

 

No, it's because Ignis has never been fond of exes.

  
  
  


The door clicks shut behind them just as the sight of the sun shining over the horizon greets them from their window. The golden hour's casted an ethereal glow across their apartment. The space has changed over the past two years - not by much, of course, Ravus had nothing when he moved in - to better reflect the both of them.

 

There's still one thing that hasn't changed, though.

 

“Bedroom. Strip, then lay on the bed,” Ignis says coolly.

 

“Ignis-”

 

“Don't argue. Just give me a color.” Ignis says, making his way to the bedroom with Ravus hot on his heels.

 

Ravus sighs. “Green.”

 

So he needs it just as much as Ignis does. Good.

 

“Leave the cross on,” Ignis says.

 

Ravus’ breath hitches in his throat. Ignis can hear it and the sound goes straight to his cock with a throb. His lover is nothing but the perfect submissive; Ravus has lived to serve for a long time, first to God and now to him. Ignis thinks perhaps he may be a more merciful master- most of the time, anyway.

 

As Ravus begins to strip, Ignis turns away to search through the trunk at the foot of the bed. There's something in here, something he's been saving for something special. It's been a long time since they've played… maybe that's why Ravus has dragged skeletons out of the closet to display on a chain around his neck.

 

The flogger is made of simple, beautiful black leather. The D rings sparkle at the end of each strand; the metal rings are especially heavy. Each kiss of their form across skin stings and smarts like a wound; Ignis knows all too well what this piece feels like.

 

He's been neglecting Ravus, he realizes, as he looks at his lover, naked and spread eagle across the bed. Breaths spill from his pale lips in heavy pants and the silver cross catches the light with every heave of his chest. As its arms glitter in the light, its weight weighs heavy on Ravus’ chest and Ignis’ mind.

 

Perhaps Ravus needs this more than Ignis assumed. The thought crosses his mind as Ignis carefully walks around the bed, his eyes locked with his lover's. Ravus must see the remorse in Ignis’ eyes because a hiss of a breath whistles through his lips as he looks away.

 

“I'm so sorry, darling,” Ignis whispers, running his fingers up the inside of Ravus’ thigh, watching as it twitches under his fingers. “Why didn't you tell me?”

 

Ravus’ gaze drifts away with his thoughts; Ignis can see it in the hues of his irises that Ravus is in pain. Perhaps he's been reflecting too much on the past, on failures that Ignis refuses to believe define his partner. He knows that Ravus is far harder on himself than he is.

 

“.... I still feel like a failure,” Ravus murmurs as his eyebrows knit together in painful rage. “I'm… not so sure who I am anymore, Ignis.”

 

Ignis sets the flogger down and kneels beside the bed. He takes Ravus’ hand and kisses his knuckles. “Shall I remind you?” Ignis whispers, letting his breath fall across Ravus’ hand as he looks up at him. “Shall I remind you of everything you are? The man you've become?”

 

“Remind me… remind me of who I belong to. Master. Please…” Ravus says, eyes shut tightly as he winces. His own words wound him. Ravus, of course, is resilient, stubborn, even. It's something Ignis adores and abhors; with that resiliency comes pain and suffering for the both of them.

 

Perhaps, as the bruises heal, their hearts will as well.

 

“As you wish, pet,” Ignis says, bending over to place a loving, sweet kiss on Ravus’ lips. “Soon, you'll be praying to me. Praying for  _ my _ mercy. Would you like that, Ravus?”

 

“ _ Yes, Ignis, please,”  _ Ravus moans. Ignis taps his thigh and Ravus rolls over onto his belly. There are scars, delicate little spiderwebs that crisscross his alabaster skin in deliberately drawn lines. Of all the marks Ravus has begged for, the ones Ignis has given him with the silver dagger in their trunk are the prettiest.

 

Ignis lifts the flogger and trails the little rings over the scars. Ravus shivers under Ignis’ worship of his subservience. “Perfect,” Ignis murmurs and Ravus shivers again. He's obviously been in need of this, of Ignis’ steady hands and reverent touch.

 

He begins with tapping the flogger against his skin, bouncing it gently against the vertebrae in his back from top to bottom. As he reaches the beautiful, pale curve of Ravus’ass, Ignis raises the intensity with each bounce of the flogger. His instrument falls against a cheek in a firm strike.

 

Ravus grabs fistfuls of the bedspread as he grits his teeth. Ignis brings the flogger down on his ass again, letting the rings fall across his skin in a stinging reminder.

 

“Tell me who your master was before me,” Ignis demands with another sharp crack. A moan slips from Ravus’ lips and Ignis strikes him again. “Tell me, Ravus.”

 

“God,” he chokes. “God was my master.”

 

“Did he take care of you? Did he love you like I love you, Ravus?”

 

No answer. Ignis brings the flogger down on Ravus’ shoulders this time and admires the way pale skin reddens under his careful strike. With a gasp, Ravus moans, “Never. Never.”

 

“Who is your master now?” Ignis asks as he prowls over to the other side of the bed. “Who cares for you? Loves you? Gives you what you need?”

 

“You do, master… Thank you,” Ravus chokes. His voice breaks at the end and Ignis knows he has him right where he wants to be, in a haze of pain and euphoria cushioned with the trust he places in Ignis to bring him there. With a soft smile filled with pride, pride in their bond and in his partner, Ignis gives him what he desires most.

 

The flogger rains down on his perfect skin, scars and quivering muscles be damned. Ignis strikes him with equal parts love and domination, each with the intent to remind Ravus of both. The rhythm of the strikes is accompanied by the soft melody of Ravus’ cries, creating a symphony of gorgeous pain and pleasure.

 

Knuckles white as snow grip the sheets, a stark contrast to the red skin on Ravus’ backside. A string of spit stretches between his parted lips, swollen from Ravus’ worrying teeth. His head rests heavy against the mattress; Ignis can plainly see that Ravus isn't with him anymore, he's within himself, in a place only his master can bring him.

 

Ignis begins the slow process of bringing his lover back to Earth. His strikes ease off of the intensity slowly. He doesn't want Ravus to leave that place, not until Ignis rewards him for his servitude. The strands of the flogger drag across his swollen back and ass, red and black, across the twitching muscles and taut skin.

 

“You're so beautiful, love,” Ignis purrs. “I'm so proud of you. You take my beatings so well. May I reward you?”

 

A  _ quiet mmm _ and a soft smile are his answer. Ignis kneels beside Ravus on the mattress to grip his hip and roll him onto his back. His cock is red and weeping from lack of attention; the way it catches in the golden light of the early morning is a small reward in and of itself.

 

Ignis leans over to kiss the tip of Ravus’ erection before sliding its length into his mouth. Ravus sings his praises with a sinful little moan as Ignis bobs his head on his cock, taking every single inch of him. Bringing Ravus pleasure is a process Ignis has memorized; he knows each and every way Ravus likes to be touched and teased to climax.

 

As much as Ignis wants to take his time, to have his fun with his blissed out lover, he knows Ravus needs the aftercare that comes with rough sessions like this one. He would never speak aloud of how many times he's held a fragile, shattered man in his arms, or how he puts him back together each and every time he takes him apart.

 

Ravus comes with a dry sob as his muscles tense and clench. Ignis takes all of him until his length nearly chokes him and drinks down his release like a sweet wine. He doesn't stop until Ravus begs with fingers twisted in ashy blonde locks for mercy. Once Ignis has released him, Ravus falls limp against the mattress. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry…”

 

Ignis takes him in his arms, cradling him against his chest as he comes down. Ravus clings to him like a buoy, begging, “forgive me, please, for ever doubting this.”

 

“Already forgiven,” Ignis murmurs.

 

“I love you,” Ravus chokes in a display of affection that takes Ignis back. They aren't words Ravus chooses often; he has never learned how to use them, not until he found Ignis - until they found each other.

 

After a moment of silence, Ignis replies, “and I you, Ravus. Always.”


End file.
